Falling Angels Demons Rising
by Hatter's Apprentice
Summary: Hey, all of you no this is not a dream. This is for real. Angelique and the gang are back, however, with a new author. Although there is a new author Lex's story is not completely different! Angels and demons have invaded the lives of our favorite anime characters; I hope I can do as much justice as Lex one did! Wish me luck.


**Sorry, things have been kinda hectic around here, but...I have my bleak chapter ready for you...**

 **I AM HAVING EXTREME RESERVATIONS ABOUT THIS, BUT HERE GOES. I'LL BE KEEPING MOST OF THE WORK YOU ADDED, THOUGH. WHEN THE VOICES INTERUPT, IT'LL BE UNDERLINED. I DO NOT OWN OURAN HIGH SCHOOL HOST CLUB.**

 _HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN TO ME?_

 _I'VE MADE MY MISTAKES_

 _GOT NOWHERE TO RUN_

 _THE NIGHT GOES ON AS I'M FADING AWAY_

 _I'M SICK OF THIS LIFE_

 _I JUST WANNA SCREAM_

 _HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN TO ME?_

~UNTITLED-SIMPLE PLAN

CHAPTER ONE: ANGELIQUE

"Angelique." My golden wings ruffled. "We are ready for you now." I slowly let go of Antoine and Kyoya's hands, and then made my way through the iridescent, kaleidoscope double doors into a large room that filled my eyes with colors not known to the human world. The room was empty except for a lone chair in the center of the room. "Please sit." The voice said again. Monotonous. Very monotonous. I sat.

"Now I see here what you are accused of, and it doesn't look very good for you. Very bleak, actually." This voice was familiar, and it strained to sound as monotonous as the others, but still sounded with emotions I could only dream of having again.

"All is not as it seems." My voice was dull. Not as dull as the others, but still dull. That serum really works.

"Then please, enlighten us." I took in a deep, steadying breath that I honestly didn't need, and began.

"Red and blue. Blinding red and blue. High, screeching sounds. Cold. Cold and stiff. Achingly cold. Stiff as a statue. Voices. Loud ones. Screaming. Crying. High-pitched. A woman. It's familiar. Her screams were familiar. ALL IN MY HEAD! ALL IN MY HEAD!

Pure ethereal impact. That's what it felt like. Like my mind was hit with the weight of the world, and then bombed, like a bloody battlefield. Over and over and over and over again. It was repetitive and unnerving. It was pain. Everything that made up this form, this state I'm in, was jerked around like a child's toy. Pain. The pain was everywhere and everything. It would not stop. This torture was worse than death—worse than death! The sudden awareness of the word death was the linchpin for my inevitable fate. Death shattered me. It jerked and beat me; I was choking—suffocating! I couldn't breathe! I was smashed against this—this barrier, this wall, that shattered on my contact. Red veins lined the side of the wall and I seeped into them and oozed out on to the other side.

The other side wasn't much fun either.

The scene in front of me was brutal. Red and blue police sirens pierced and stung my eyes, momentarily blinding me. Once the gradual shock wore of, I peeked behind my lashes and the cold set in. The cold didn't settle on my skin and provoke the hairs on my arms to stand on end like usual. No. This cold seeped into me, chilling me down to my core. It unsettled me. Why was it so cold? It was only April. Before I could ponder this thought more, a high, gurgling sob stunted all further thought. I knew that sob. I had only heard that sob once in my life—when my father passed, my mother wept for weeks, and mourned for years.

Risking a glance down, my emerald eyes swept over my mother's trembling body which was hunched down, clutching what looked like a broken, life sized doll. The doll was mutilated beyond recognition, but my mother was straddling it like it was one of the most important thing in her life. I could only really make out the sweep of wild, dark hair and the…the crimson liquid that oozed like veins out of the doll's skull. An unsettling, biting feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. My mother wasn't holding a doll…she was holding me. This thought didn't hit me like an on coming train like it would in books and movies. This realization slowly grew inside me, and then finally popped out of me in the form of shaking sobs. I died. I died. I was dead; God was I so dead. I couldn't even recognize myself! My limbs were jutting out at odd angles . Just NO! A gurgle like sound escaped my lips and I—whatever I was—crumpled slowly to the ground beside my mother.

"Maman." I choked out. "Maman, look at me! I'm right here! I'll be okay; it'll be okay. After all, we did believe in God." The dry humor tasted bitter on my tongue and—looking at my mother's sobbing face as the red and blue lights reflected off of her eyes—fragments of memories pushed themselves forward into my mind. My sixth birthday—I just had to have chocolate cake. My eight birthday—Papa got me a guitar and wouldn't let me quit after the first hour. It was acoustic. I asked for electric. When my baby brother was born—he a premature birth, no one thought that he would make it, but Maman just held on—the stubborn old woman. As all of these memories consumed me, one held my attention for the longest. It was like I was re-living it.

"I want to watch the puppet movie." My younger brother, Aiden, declared as he grinned at me from the rear view mirror. "My friend said that it was funny."

"They're Muppets, not puppets." I corrected him as we switched lanes.

"Same thing." He stuck out his tongue at me and I returned the gesture, making Maman laugh at us from the passenger seat.

"You two are silly." She said, shaking her head at us, her eyes filled with fond amusement. "Ange, take the next exit. I want to stop at the store"

"Sneaking snacks into the theater, Maman." I teased. "You're setting a bad example for you children.

" _Mes enfants sont ceux me l'a dit._ " ( My children are the ones who told me about it.) Before I could give a response, something black and silver jumped out into the road and I slammed on the brakes. The gurgled, screeching sound of my mother's scream was the last thing I heard. Death came quickly.

I hardly find the courage to look up. Blood dribbled down my mother's temple and her lip was busted but she still sobbed. Tearing my gaze away from my mother's face, my emerald eyes raked through the accident. Searching. Wishing. Hoping. Aiden.

Several cars collided leaving the road just a horrific mess of metal, fire, and blood. All around people were hurt or dead. I could see their souls—their essence ooze out of them and then just, linger. Like me; they lingered. I didn't have the time or patience to process this information. Aiden. My eyes came to a dead stop in front of our car. A blue sedan. Surrounding the car a swarm of police officers, fire fighters, and medics tried to cut my little brother out of the vehicle. He was alive. He was dying, suffering, trapped, and alone, but he was alive—"

"He did die, though, right." The voice asked, pulling me out of the reverie.

"Yes. Yes he did."

"Alright, please continue."

"As I was saying…

They managed to pull him out of the mangled remains of our car before it caught fire and exploded its twisted, tortured remains everywhere. I sighed in relief and then turned to my mother, full of determination.

"Maman." I said. "I know that you can't hear me but you've got to get it together. I'll be fine, but you've got to let me go." I put my hand on her shoulder. I don't know what happened, but I think that she was more aware if me somehow. "Aiden is alive. Your son is alive." My voice cracked. "And he needs you. He needs you to be there for him and he needs you to be strong." I didn't want her to leave me, didn't want to know what happened next. Where to go. What to do. But she needed to go, needed to be with my brother. And so, with everything in me, I wished to alleviate my mother's pain, if only a little. Something then flowed through me; some kind of energy. As soon as it flowed through me and into my mother, her crying stopped. A new emotion entered her eyes as she kissed me one last time, whispered the same words she whispered to herself when my father passed, and then handed my body over to the ambulance personnel. She got up and walked out of the reach of my hand, but the energy I had still flowed through us both like a river.

"There you are!" A young man in his early twenties with skin the color of moonlight and a wearing a charming, yet icy smile appeared before me with a gasp or scarlet smoke that lingered around his body. He was wrapped in all black with a twin pair of…of crimson wings protruding from his shoulder blades. ( _Damn! The devil looked good!_ ) "I thought that I was too late; that they already took you there!" His voice was sliding ice on glass. Slow, soothing, yet with a cold, unexplored center. His expression softens at my confused expression; his smile grew warmer when he took a few more steps toward me. Dazed and confused, I backed up a few steps before I stumbled and then fell arms.

Finding my voice, small and high, I asked, "Take me where?" He gazed down at me with a wry smile on his face. His pearly white teeth reflected the pulsing red and blue colors that had pulled me from unconsciousness just moments before. "What's your name?

"Why, Heaven of course." He started to swim in and out of focus. His lips twitched and a dark expression took hold of his face before he-he pressed his lips to mine. "My name…my name is—"

"A kiss? Antoine gave you a kiss." Another voice, female, asks me in slight …what was the emotion…amusement.

"Yes." I said. "A kiss."

"Alright, Angelique!" His voice held, a haunted sense of urgency. "You have to listen carefully!" That was the last thing I heard before my head exploded in pain, noise, color…and monsters. They filled my vision and then all was dark.

I awoke alone on hard, cold asphalt. Pain shot through my body and a moan escaped my lips when I sat up.

"Angelique Desiree Blanc." A booming voice thundered. I scrambled to my feet and scanned the area once more. There he was, hovering just a few feet above ground suspended in the air like a god…no, not a god. An angel! He was tall—I could tell, even though he wasn't standing on anything solid. His ash white hair swept over his slightly feral silver eyes and milky white skin. He was draped in a black coat and pitch colored wings protruded from his back. _That guy is just one big oxymoron._ I thought. "I am Azrael, Angel of Death and I have come to escort you to the afterlife. Come now or suffer the consequences."

I swallowed my fear and forced myself forward, not liking the sound of "consequences." When I came within two feet away from him, he held out his hand to me, and after a brief moment of hesitation, I took it. His face broke into a grin, which made him less intimidating and much more mischievous. Before I had the notion of changing my mind, his powerful wings threw us up into the air, and we fell into the night sky. I shut my eyes tight and clung to him for dear life, causing a jovial laugh to bellow from Azrael's lips. When we finally landed, and his feet finally touched solid ground, he dropped me unceremoniously on to the hard, marble floor. I gave him my best evil eye, but before I could give him a few colorful words, he held up his hand and spoke.

"Any questions you have may be answered in that room." He pointed to a golden arch-like door about ten feet away from us, the plaque beside it read **Office Assignments and Assessments.** Pain shot up in my head, worse than before. I barely heard the quick "good luck" Azrael tossed my way before he took flight. My vision blurred and the familiarity of the words **Office Assignments and Assessments** bit at me, dredging up a forgotten memory of Antoine.

" _You will be taken to the Office of Assignments and Assessments. There they will tell you that your death was an accident. They are_ lying."

"Just come on in." A feminine voice called out and broke me out of my reverie. I pushed the door aside the door and peered in at a pristine white office with an overly cheerful woman sitting decadently in the center at a desk. She had pale blue eyes and golden ringlets of hair that framed her face. What really caught my attention were the snow white wings spread out behind he, partially blending in with the room. "Hello, Angelique." She sang, whilst lifting a rosy pink cup in my direction. "Please sit. Would you like some tea?" I did as she said, sitting in front of her metal desk in a comfy, mahogany chair similar to hers. She poured me a clear tea that looked more like water into a rosy pink cup, and I gasped in shock as the tea changed from clear to amber.

"My name is Allegra, Angel of Cheer." She smiled at me, softly, showing dimples. "You should drink your tea; it'll help to calm your nerves. Tentatively, I brought the cup to my lips and took a slow sip. "Do you understand that you're dead?" Images of my mutilated body assaulted me. I nodded. "Then you know where we are?" I directed my gaze around the room once again to stop on her wings.

"Heaven?" Even though at the time, I didn't think it was possible, Allegra's grin widened.

"Precisely! Some people don't know and I've had to spend a large amount of time calming them down. Already understanding makes my job easier." Allegra rested her chin in her hands and smiled brightly. "Everyone who dies comes here and are given two options: to be reincarnated, or to remain here in Heaven. If you choose reincarnation, your soul will be cleansed and stripped of all of your memories from your previous life; you will then be reborn. This option is excellent for people who feel that they could've done better or have unfinished business. If you remain here in Heaven, your soul will still be cleansed and you will retain all of your memories, even ones from a past life. Then you are given a room in Heaven and are free to make it your own."

"Oh." I said. None of those options tugged at my heartstrings. Neither of them interested me for some odd reason. Allegra reached out and placed her hand over mine. A golden-tinted sheened over her eyes for just a second.

"There is a third option for people like yourself. People who have been proven worthy over multiple life spans. If you like, you can become an angel." She dug in her desk after taking in my confused expression, and pulled out what seemed to be statistics. "Angelique, there are approximately 105 people who die every minute and 15 of those people are teenagers who die prematurely due to suicide, accidents, murder, illness, etc. This adds up to roughly about 788,4000 people per year that die without truly being able to live. That number was far too high so the Archangels came up with a new way for teens to live! With this option you can become a Warrior, Healer, Miracle-Worker, Guardian, and more. Whichever fits you better. If you choose this, there will be an evaluation and assessment to determine which task suits you best and which type of angel you are."

Time once again fuzzed over as Antoine's words hit me like bricks to the head. _They will give you three options—a new system that they've picked up over the last century. The times are changing. And so are we. We are no longer limited by lack of emotion, but they will try to steal them away from you._

"Will I get to keep my memories?" And my emotions and humanity?

"You will keep all necessary memories imperative to the category you are placed in." Allegra's smile was tight. I took another swig of my tea before my next question burst from my lips.

"How did I die?"

 _They will tell you that…_

"A deer jumped in front of your car and you slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting it, causing a train of collisions behind you. Due to a faulty seat belt and air bag your body was slammed through the windshield, the cuts from the glass mutilating your body and hit major arteries. You slowly bled to death." _They are lying._

"I want to be an angel." I said bluntly, causing a genuine smile to light up Allegra's features.

"Excellent! I'll get started on the paper work!" She then proceeded to ramble on and on about how I'll enjoy my new life, but I tuned her out and stared down at my hands, Antoine's words echoing in my thoughts.

THIRD PERSON

Tombstones protruded from the ground in an ugly, yet melancholy beautiful way. All around people drenched in black hovered silently over a lone figure and her sister who were both on their knees, sobbing uncontrollably into two stones.

 **Aiden Markus Blanc**

 **2006-2016**

 **Beloved son, brother, friend, and nephew.**

 **Angelique Desiree Blanc**

 **1999-2016**

 **Beloved daughter, sister, friend, and niece.**

The sobbing continued and silently—to which even her sister had to strain—Rosaline Blanc hysterically murmured to herself, "WHY! Why? Why would this happen to me, to my babies?" It turned into a yell as she raised her head to the sky. "WHAT THE HELL DID WE DO TO DESERVE THIS?" Unbeknownst to the grievers, an angel with crimson wings and cerulean eyes was watching this reception, a hard frown lined in his features. He then flew off, to find a pretty angel with golden wings sitting on a Sakura tree in Japan.

 _Angelique: Angel of Alleviation_

 _Abilities: can sense emotional distress and the needs of others, providing comfort in any way possible. Helps souls to cross over without pain. Expert in hand to hand combat, swordsmanship, and archery._

 _Occupation: Guardian_

 _Assignment: Ootori, Kyoya. Age, 5. Black hair, onyx eyes, prescription glasses, for additional information see supervisor._

 **That's it for now, but I promise that I'll add in the other half of this chapter along with Gerad's.**


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